I Cannot
I cannot cross over sunken flowers gently,
Rough is my gentle touch.
Heavy imprints do my weak legs leave on worn autumn leaves.
I do not kiss them, as butterflies would when they pass,
I make them wary of my touch.
I cannot cross over sunken flowers gently.
—Tihana Skoric
A Love Denied
All that is left is to hide from your warring gaze,
and perhaps, by chance, to stumble upon a kinder friend.
But what a loss shall it seem when I am older,
that I should never know a loving kiss from my mother.
I shall think of it then, for presently, I have not the courage or the strength
to weather this great storm of your bitter tears.
Others think our estrangement odd but, I see it for what it is—an absurdity.
And what, might I ask, would a different you or a different I produce?
I’d laugh to see us happy but, for a frail moment.
What a dream, indeed, would that affair be!
—Tihana Skoric
